Sanity is Fleeting but I'll Live Forever
by JenkinsDLP
Summary: An attack on Privet Drive during the summer sets off a turn of events that leave Harry insane and Dumbledore dead. Will the wizarding world trust this Harry to save them? Post-OotP, Harry/Fleur.
1. Chapter 1

**Sanity is Fleeting but I'll Live Forever**

**-Chapter 1-**

**Summer begins**

_12:34pm, July 30__th__ – Little Whinging  
_  
Vernon Dursley was a very proud man. He had a lovely wife whom he loved very much, and a brilliant son who was growing into a fine young man. Not only that but he had also just received a very nice raise at the firm where he worked, Grunnings. It was this generous raise that allowed Vernon to purchase the brand new, very expensive Mercedes which he was currently driving around his neighbourhood purely to flaunt his shiny new toy around.

The only thing wrong with Vernon's life right now was that blasted nephew of his. The good for nothing brat had appeared on his doorstep 14 years ago and had been nothing but a pain in the arse since. Vernon shook his head 'Mustn't think about the brat' he thought. 'Oh, there's Mr Steckel…' he smiled and waved furiously at his middle-aged neighbour, who simply gawked at the three Dursleys and their brand new car.

He glanced at Petunia and smiled at her, his boastful glee showing full blast. "Oh I'm so proud of you Vernon!" gushed Petunia. "It's about time those greedy pigs at the company gave you the pay you deserve."

"Yeah dad!" piped up Dudley from the backseat. "Way to rake in the big bucks! Does this mean I can get a new TV now? My old one is too small."

Vernon gritted his teeth slightly. That old TV was only about 5 months old and had a screen that was about 28 inches! It had cost him nearly 500 quid! After a second he smiled. 'Dudders is right' he thought. 'I can easily afford a new one now'

He let out a loud, throaty chuckle. "Of course Dudders, we can get loads of new things now can't we Petunia?" He boomed turning to his wife with a smile on his face. "Watch the road Vernon" she replied nervously. "You're going awfully fast."

Vernon turned his gaze back on the road ahead of him as he sped along in what he considered to be the greatest vehicle of all time. He laughed again before turning back to look at his only real son. "You wait Dudley," he said with a giant cheesy grin plastered all over his round face. "Soon we'll be roll-"

"VERNON LOOK OUT!" screamed Petunia pointing out the windscreen.

Vernon looked sharply back to the road just in time to see his car driving full speed into an oncoming lorry. He swerved violently to the right but it was too late and his brand new car clipped the side of the lorry. The speed he was travelling at ensured his death as the Mercedes spun horribly out of control, flipping onto its side in a horrible screech of metal and shattering glass.

Vernon could vaguely hear the screams of his wife and child as they spun and flipped at incredible speeds, eventually slamming with incredible force into a gigantic tree just on the side of the road.

His head hanging out the window, Vernon could faintly hear the screams and shouting of pedestrians, vaguely feel the warm flow of his own blood coating his neck before his vision blurred and faded to black.

At 12:36pm, July 30th 1996, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley died on the corner of Privet Drive.

_12:32__pm, July 30__th__ – Magnolia Crescent_

The coke can clattered noisily across the hot pavement, bouncing along erratically before rolling to a stop. A few seconds later a foot clad in an old sneaker kicked it again, forcing the bit of metal to continue its journey down the street. Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, was very, very angry. His school year had ended in pain and battle as well as the death of one of people he cared most for on the whole planet. Not even an hour after watching his godfather die, Harry's headmaster Albus Dumbledore, arguably the most powerful wizard in existence and leader of the light finally decided to tell Harry something of great importance.

As it turned out, Harry was destined to either kill, or be killed by the one wizard who could stand against Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, who happens to be the most feared and powerful Dark Lord in a century. To top it off, now Harry was being forced to deal with his less than desirable family members who were being their usually snotty selves.

Harry felt a hot flash of annoyance as he recalled his last conversation with his family.

_Earlier_

"_BOY, GET..." Vernon Dursley began to yell up the stairs, disturbing the calm peace that had overtaken Little Whinging, before he glanced furtively out the window, a fearful look on his face. He cleared his throat, a disgruntled expression overtaking his features before trying again. "Harry!" he called up the stairs. "We're going out and I don't want you in the house. Get down here and out the door!" he yelled, his voice rising and losing composure with every word._

Harry woke with a start at the noise, throwing the sheets of_f him in an attempt to get some cool air so he wouldn't suffocate and die in the tiny room he called his summer home. 'Please just shut up and leave me alone' he squeezed his eyes shut and thought. 'Just get out of the damn house and leave me alone." It was wistful thinking he knew and sure enough, he quickly heard the tell-tale thunder that was Uncle Vernon walking up the stairs._

His door slammed open and in walked the bane of Harry's peaceful slumber, his face a strange shade of purple. "Listen boy." He hissed, his beady eyes staring at Harry in annoyance. With a dejected sigh, Harry rolled over and cracked open an eye to stare at his Uncle. Years of experience had taught him it was better to look at Vernon if he was talking to you. "You may have your freaky little friends looking after you, but this is still my house and you will follow my rules!" he finished, bits of spittle flying from his mouth. "Get out of bed you lazy little sod, and out of the house."

"Fine" Harry growled. He was not in the mood for this. All he wanted to do was crawl under his sheets and sleep, not get up and go for a walk in 40 degree weather. He clambered out of bed and made his way sleepily over towards his dresser. He paused and stood up straight, before addressing his uncle without turning around. "Do you mind Uncle Vernon? I'd like to get changed now please" he said smiling. Taking advantage of his 'family' as they struggled not to hurt him was one of the few pleasures he'd had this summer.

Uncle Vernon blistered at the comment before turning around and stomping down the stairs. Harry smirked. 'Filthy fucking pig' he thought. 'I'm not going to take any of his shit this summer, not this time'. He pulled on his surprisingly well fitting shirt and jeans, before grabbing his wand and stuffing it into his jeans pocket. He looked at his clothes in interest and then he snarled, realising the only reason they fit was because they were Dudley's when he was 13.

He walked into the bathroom to do his usual morning (or midday) ritual. As he towelled off the refreshingly cold water from his face, he saw his reflection on the medicine cabinet's mirror. Deep bags under his eyes showed his lack of sleep due to nightmares, and his pale stretched skin announced to the world exactly how little he had been eating. He looked in disgust at the face that stared back at him. This was the face of the most famous wizard alive? This was the face of the Chosen One?

At the thought of the prophecy Harry felt a horrible mix of fury and depression stir in his chest. 'Sirius…' he thought, his mind drifting back to that night in the Ministry, the night he lost Sirius. 'It's my fault' he thought furiously. 'I should have known better, I should've tried harder!'

He knew there was no point in moping about it. He'd done enough of that in the two weeks that had immediately followed his godfather's death. He had cried, screamed and slipped into hour-long bouts of deep depressing thought. Sirius was dead and it was partly Harry's fault. This thought had Harry in a constant feeling of self-loathing and depression. He recovered from this pretty quickly though.

Of course he knew that he would always carry some of the blame for his godfather's death, it was after all Harry who had caused his godfather to come rushing to the Department of Mysteries. By now Harry had long accepted that most of the blame was to be put on two people. It was Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Lestrange" Harry spat, his voice oozing with vile loathing. Never before had he felt such pure, burning hatred for a single person in his life. He had watched that filthy whore take away the only person he had ever had that somewhat resembled a father. Sirius could have been freed! Sirius and he could have finally had a chance to get back the years they had both lost. Now there was no chance at all. All because of that one, evil woman!

He felt a flare of unbridled magic vibrate though his body as he clenched his fists in fury. 'I'm going to get you one day Lestrange. We'll meet again. And when we do I'm going to fucking ki…' "BOY!!" Uncle Vernon's voice echoed through the house, shaking Harry from his thoughts. He better get downstairs before he really got in trouble. Casting one last look at his reflection, he turned and left down the stairs.

"About time you graced us with your holy presence." Vernon sneered up at Harry as he reached the living room. The raven-haired wizard stared furiously back at him, but he refused to take the bait. Vernon's eyes narrowed as he looked in barely hidden loathing at his nephew. Harry glanced quickly at his bony Aunt Petunia and the broad, beefy lump that was his cousin. Dudley had actually transformed his body quite well since he had taken up boxing. Obvious muscle was starting to replace the fat that he had carried for his whole life. 'I should really consider getting into shape' thought Harry. 'I've spent too much time flying around on a broomstick.'

"Anyway, we're going for a drive around the suburbs to test drive the new Mercedes." Vernon's smug voice snapped Harry back to reality. 'Of course,' Harry thought looking at his smug Uncle. 'Always up for a chance to show off aren't you Vernon?' "You are to stay out of the house while we are gone, I don't want you breaking anything." snapped Vernon, the biting tone that he seemed to reserve only for Harry creeping back into his voice.

"Whatever" muttered Harry as he began walking to the door, now desperate to get away. "You listen here boy, you will show me respect!" Harry paused at the door, half reaching out to the handle, looking back at his 'family'. Uncle Vernon was puffed up and purple and opened his mouth to speak again. "We took you into our home so you will…" "Uncle Vernon!" interrupted Harry, annoyance showing in his voice. He cast one last look at the members of his family before his emerald green eyes rested on his uncle's piggy little black ones. "Goodbye" he said wrenching open the door and stepping into the bright, hot world that was Little Whining, Surrey.

Harry shook his head, breaking away from the thoughts of his loving family. He didn't know why the Dursleys were annoying him so much this summer. They were being fairly tolerable considering their past record. He put it down to contributing pressure, Sirius for one.

He'd recovered from his godfather's death relatively quickly. He thought he might have worried quite a few people with his surprisingly swift acceptance of such a horrible death. He worried himself actually. He was expecting to mope around for the whole summer, consumed by grief and self-loathing. But after a while something inside him spoke up, forcing him to forgive himself and try to overcome the depressing feelings.

It was as if a small little voice was telling him to suck it up and accept it. Sirius was gone and instead of crying Harry should be practising to kill those responsible for his death. Now instead he tried to focus his mind and anger on other matters, the most obvious being Voldemort and the Prophecy.

'Fucking Dumbledore,' muttered Harry angrily, kicking the can once more and watching it fly down the street. 'What's he playing at? How does he expect me to fulfill the prophecy if I can't train myself up? What's he expect me to do, 'Rictusempra' Riddle to death?'

He shoved his hands into his pockets muttering curses that no wizard would dream of hearing from the Boy-Who-Lived. 'Screw it, I saw the way Ron and Hermione were looking at me as I left the station, they're worried about me. Think I'll turn into some nutter with Sirius dead now.' 

Harry needed to beat something. He needed some violence to take his mind off the death of Sirius and the weight of the prophecy. Of course, due to the underage magic laws he wasn't allowed to practise any magic. 'I'm not going to be able to fight anyone with what I know right now. I need to train.'  
Harry screamed out in frustration, breaking the eerie silence that had gripped the familiar scene of Magnolia Crescent. This was where he had first seen Sirius….

As the sadness gripped him, thoughts turned back to Sirius' killer and the depression quickly shifted back to rage. "Fuck!" Harry yelled again, fists clenching. Bellatrix Lestrange will get what she deserved, Harry swore on it.

Just then, he heard a horrible sounding crash, like 2 cars colliding followed by shouting and screaming. Worried, he started jogging towards all of the commotion and found himself on the corner of Magnolia and Privet Drive. Looking down his street, he could see a large crowd of people gathering around what he thought looked a little like a car wreck. He started to walk closer so he could get a better look at what the hell was going on.

Suddenly he heard several loud cracks and he froze in his tracks, his blood suddenly running cold. He knew that sound. Every witch and wizard knew that sound. Someone had just apparated into Privet Drive.

_12:3__5pm, July 30__th__ – Number 4 Privet Drive_

'Merlin am I bored…' thought Mundungus Fletcher as he sat on the parched lawn of Number 4, Privet Drive. He was slouching back, resting on his elbows with his legs stretched out, idly tapping his wand against the ground.

He had been instructed to guard Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived at his home in Little Whinging. Why in Merlin's name he had to do this, Fletcher didn't know. But Dumbledore had given him an order and he was going to follow it. He owed Dumbledore his life and if his old friend needed help with something, Fletcher would meet the task.

He was just thinking about going to meet Borgin in Knockturn for a few minutes before he heard a horrible, screeching crash and people screaming. He jumped up, immediately on guard and sprinted up the path to see what was going on, fully prepared to apparate back to headquarters for re-enforcements. He sighed when he saw it was only a muggle car crash. Curious, he started to move a little closer, pulling off his invisibility cloak as he went.

The screaming and shouting was getting louder. People were running around, pulling out little rectangle plastic things, a telpone Fletcher thought they were called, screaming for an ambulance. Fletcher was looking at the car...he could've have sworn he'd seen it before.

All of a sudden, there was an almighty explosion that threw Fletcher off his feet. A huge plume of fire erupted from the car as the gas inside it lit, violently exploding. Now there was screams of pain mingled in with panic from the people as those that had been too close to the car when it blew now suffered burns and cuts from the debris.

As he clambered slowly to his feet Fletcher felt a quick sliver of fear. Now he was positive he had seen the car before. He caught a good look at the shiny, silver thing before it blew. Then the trickle turned to a full blown flood of cold, nauseous dread flowing through his body. That was the new Dursley car. They were dead. 'The blood wards…' he thought fear gripping his heart. 'POTTER!' He turned and sped back down the street to Number 4. He arrived just in time to see a group of black cloaked figures leave the house.

He gasped as he realised the sheer enormity of the situation. Too stunned and scared to move, he watched in fear as the group of Death Eaters strolled up the drive. "I have a track on him" said one, moving quickly and waving his wand intricately. "He's not far from here, we can track him down on foot. I have a trace on his signature. Thatcher, erect the wards, we don't want anyone else getting in or out."

Just then one of the Death Eaters turned and saw Fletcher, before he cried out in alarm and raised his wand. 

Mundungus Fletcher was never a fighter. He was never brave. He was never a competent wizard. He didn't think to apparate as the Death Eater turned a wand on him. All he could do was force himself to turn and try to run as he heard the shouted words of the deadly curse. He couldn't do anything at all as the eerie green light washed over him, and everything went black.


	2. The chase

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it's not mine

A/N: I understand that this fic is relatively cliché at the moment. However I ask that you bear with me. Things will be happening soon that will bring some originality into it. These first two chapters are rather short and maybe the next two as well. Again I just ask that you hang in there, I'm still adjusting to the writing and the story. As usual, reviews are most wanted.

**Sanity is ****fleeting but I'll live Forever**

Chapter 2

Chase

"_One more chance Lucius"_

Lord Voldemort's voice echoed in Lucius Malfoy's head as he burst swiftly through the door of Number 4 Privet Drive. After his failure at the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort had been absolutely furious with his key enforcer and financial backer. Lucius had managed to stay out of Azkaban solely due to good fortune. Both his large Gringott's vault and sheer luck.

Upon his return to Voldemort's manor, Lucius had been subjected to huge amounts of the Cruciatus curse. His task had been simple: retrieve the prophecy. He had been so closeuntil that blasted Order of the Phoenix showed up. His skilled team of Death Eaters had managed to hold their own and had even begun to win the battle when Dumbledore showed up.

At that time, all hope was lost.

Now his Lord had given him one more mission, one last chance to redeem himself. About 20 minutes earlier Voldemort had jumped to his feet during the usual meeting. "The blood wards are down." He had hissed, absolutely gleeful.

A quickly assembled team of the most skilled Death Eaters present was dispatched to Privet Drive. Although Voldemort had told that Dumbledore had no real way of knowing if the wards collapsed as they had nothing to do with his magic and were untraceable, he had not wanted to take any chances. He said he wanted Potter in his hands as soon as possible, no failures allowed.

So now Lucius was stalking through the sparkling clean muggle house where Harry Potter lived during the summer, leading his team of six Death Eaters

Christian Thatcher was a powerful American wizard. His skill with wards and other complicated magic was nearly unmatched and he was a strong believer in Voldemort's ideals. Bellatrix Lestrange needed no explanation; the witch was something of a legacy, almost as feared as Voldemort himself. Michael Gosford was a horrible sadist with an intricate knowledge of dark arts assault spells. Augustus Rookwood was a sly and cunning man who knew more about transfiguration and mind spells than any other Death Eater. Leon Gordair was a potions master and one of the few who could come close to matching Snape. His healing skills and deadly brews were always useful in a fight.

"Malfoy!" screeched Bellatrix from the second story of the house. "The Potter brat isn't here, we'll need to track him down. He can't be far."

"Fine," Lucius replied signalling for his team to regroup in the living room. "Get me something with his signature on it, we'll find him."

Bellatrix came down the stairs and handed Lucius a broomstick. The pristine Firebolt shone slightly as Lucius cast the tracking spell on it, getting the 'scent' for Potter's magic. "Reperio scaena," he muttered, waving his wand over the broomstick. A brief flash of purple light signalled the charm had worked. Almost instantly Lucius felt a tug on his magic, urging him in the direction of his target..

He turned quickly and walked out the door, the rest following him closely. "He's not far from here," he said, moving quickly up the driveway. "We can track him down on foot; I have a trace on his signature. Thatcher, erect the wards, we don't want anyone else getting in or out."

The short American nodded and pulled out his wand, muttering the incantations that would bring about the anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards.

They reached the street and Lucius paused, determining where to go. Just then he heard a small cry of surprise to his left and turned to see Gosford raising his wand at a shabbily dressed man not 10 metres away. As the man turned to run, Lucius recognised him as that crook Mundungus Fletcher. Sneering as the green flash of the killing curse flew towards the dirty wizard Malfoy turned and began walking down the street. Potter was very, very close.

Harry crouched behind the large hedge that surrounded number 10 Privet Drive. He had his wand out and his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He had heard the apparations and snuck around so he could get a clear view of Number 4 as maybe it was Dumbledore or someone else to see him. When he saw the six black figures with white masks though, he knew he was in serious trouble. He watched as the killing curse was cast at Mundungus before turning around and bolting up the street, jumping behind his neighbour's bushes.

He took a few deep breaths and tried to gather his thoughts. Death Eaters here could only mean the blood wards were down and if the blood wards were down it meant so were the Dursleys. It must have been them in the car crash up the street. He felt a strange feeling pass through him. A very small part of him felt regret, almost remorse. Then another part of him, a part that he had been seeing a lot more of recently, felt pure sadistic joy.

He shook his head; he could worry about that later. Right now he needed to survive until help arrived. With Mundungus dead Harry assumed there was no way of getting to an Order member. His mind worked furiously, he needed help or at least somewhere to go to sort things out, but where could he get it? Suddenly it came to him: Mrs Figg would no doubt let him stay at her house for a few minutes. Just as a safer place to be while he thought this through.

He glanced over the hedge and ducked back down again almost straight away. The Death Eaters were about 70 meters away, heading swiftly to his direction. Mrs Figg lived two streets away; he wondered if he could make it and maybe lose his assailants as well.

He knew the Death Eaters wouldn't try to kill him. He could use this to his advantage. "I've got a lock," he heard the unmistakable smooth drawl of a Malfoy. Harry barely had time to wonder why Lucius Malfoy wasn't in Azkaban before he decided to make his move.

"He's over he-"

"STUPEFY!" Harry roared diving out of cover, aiming his wand at the group of Death Eaters. Without stopping to see if it hit he tore down the street, keeping as low as he could while still moving fast, weaving from side to side.

Spells flashed past him, he heard the Death Eaters behind him, feet pounding against the pavement, muffled curses and spell incantations reached his ears. As he banked left he recognised the scarlet light of the stunning spell, barely missing him followed by a woman's horrible scream.

Bellatrix was here. Harry almost turned to fight before getting a grip on himself, he had to escape first. Lestrange would have to wait.

He could hear the Death Eaters beginning to pant behind him, the spell casting while sprinting was taking the breath out of them. Harry felt a stitch beginning to burn in his side but kept running, jutting his wand over his shoulder and managing to gasp out an Incendio.

He heard a man's cry followed by swearing and then the sound of water hitting cloth. Harry didn't know what to do. Even if he made it to Mrs Figg's house the Death Eaters would be right behind him anyway. He had hoped he would be able to lose them but they had managed to stay right on his tail the whole time.

As Mrs Figg's street loomed into view he turned sharply to his left, clearing the gate of some unlucky person's house. Tearing through the backyard he pointed his wand to the fence hoping this would lead to Mrs Figg's street.

"REDUCTO!" he yelled and the spell shot forward, obliterating the fence. He jumped though as another red spell flashed over his head followed by two strange blue curses. He kept running, now going for the front gate of the house whose backyard he'd just blown himself into.

"Incarcerous!" screeched Bellatrix from behind him and this time her spell hit the target. Harry fell to the ground hard as ropes wrapped themselves around his legs and torso. Winded, Harry rolled over to see the six Death Eaters run into the garden and stop when they saw Bellatrix with her wand out, grinning triumphantly.

"Got you now, ickle baby Potter," she said mockingly looking at him with a huge grin. "Now you're in real trouble."

"Enough, Bellatrix." Snapped Malfoy glancing in her direction before turning back to Harry who lay on the ground, staring furiously back up at him. But there was a hint of fear in his eyes now. He knew he was in real trouble.

"Gordair, knock him out and make sure he's not injured. Thatcher, get rid of the wards, I want to leave as soon as possible."

A tall, pale man walked towards Harry with a scowl on his face. Harry noticed his robes were seared all across his chest and he felt a brief flicker of satisfaction before the fear returned. The last thing he saw was Gordair's boot rushing in to meet his face and then he knew no more.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a very strange place indeed and the Headmaster's office personified that strangeness perfectly. Portraits of former school heads littered the large stone wall and strange little trinkets covered the various desks, some of them appearing to be in a very bad condition.

Several more little tables lay scattered about the large room, old tomes and parchment covering as much of the wood as possible. A beautiful red and gold bird was perched on a large stand, it's head tucked under it's wing, apparently sleeping.

It was fairly quiet in the office at the moment, the only sound being the softly snoring portraits and the scratching of a quill on paper. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, writing on a piece of parchment that stretched on for several feet.

The strange old wizard leaned heavily on one arm, his forehead resting on his hand while the other scribbled furiously. Rather than exhibiting the aura of friendliness and power that usually came from the wizard, he was looking particularly old and stressed as he continued to write, pausing every now and then to mutter under his breath.

Suddenly there was a loud whoosh of large green flames in the fireplace and out stumbled a small figure, coughing on the ash. Dumbledore turned around sharply, his face relaxing as he saw who it was.

"Arabella," he began kindly, smiling at her. "To what do I-"

"Harry's gone!" interrupted Arabella looking very distressed. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he stood up moving quickly towards the old lady. "The Dursleys are dead, Death Eaters attacked, they've got Harry, Albus! They took him away!" she wailed, tears filling her eyes.

Dumbledore froze, a wave of cold realisation washing over him as the words sunk in.

The Boy-Who-Lived had been taken captive by Lord Voldemort.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, here's the next bit. This is unbeta'd right now and I'll edit when my beta is finished, this is where I like to think it gets better. Right now I'm re-writing my other fic Magical Joys so I'm not too sure on when you can expect the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it, and please leave reviews.

Chapter 3

- Chaos -

Albus Dumbledore apparated into Privet Drive with a soft pop, quickly glancing around in case any muggles had seen him. He moved quickly, heading towards number 4, his heart pounding in his chest and unable to shake the sickening feeling of dread that had a hold on him. His long purple robe flapped behind him as he approached Harry's summer house and his heart dropped when he noticed the large amount of muggle law-enforcement walking all around the property. He came just in time to see two men in green uniforms zip up a black bag and carry it on a stretcher to the red and white van in the driveway.

He had been so sure of Harry's safety. Yes, he knew that the Dursleys were not the nicest of relatives and had certainly not treated Harry as their own son as he had so hoped they would. He knew a lot about what was going on, largely thanks to Mrs Figg living near by and the occasional check-up from the few people who could be trusted to know the whereabouts of Harry Potter before he came to Hogwarts.

He remembered one night when Minerva had flooed him in an utter rage after she had been sent to see how Harry was coping with the Dursleys. She had ended up yelling at him for close to an hour, describing how she had seen Harry's uncle yell at him for burning his steak before locking him in the cupboard under the stairs, for Merlin's sake. After that night, Dumbledore had come incredibly close to taking Harry away from the Dursleys, but whenever he had considered the opportunity, he had always convinced himself that it came down to protection.

Admittedly, Harry was incredibly safe at Hogwarts, but the blood wards that surrounded Privet Drive made him nearly untouchable to anyone who wanted to kill him. At least, that was the theory. Already, two Dementors, a fugitive wizard and a house elf had managed to find Harry without any trouble from the wards at all as well as Merlin knows how many other wizards Harry had seen but not recognised. Dumbledore had seriously questioned his decision to place Harry under the protection of the Dursleys again after the Dementor attack on him and his cousin almost caused the death of Dudley Dursley and Harry's Conviction for using under-aged magic. Judging from past experiences, the wards didn't appear to be doing a huge amount to shield him from the magical world.

In fact, Dumbledore had always had doubts about their effectiveness. The truth was, no wards had ever been erected around Privet Drive at all, only a tracking spell and a few protection charms that were put on Harry when he was brought here and a few times over the years as well aHarry. It had been Nicolas Flamel who had suggested the idea of the blood wards to Dumbledore. Flamel was over 600 years old and had a huge knowledge of magic because despite the fact his main strength was charms and potions; he had had more than half of a millennium to dabble in other magics.

He had told Dumbledore that in the early days, the greatest type of protection was one that came with a sacrifice from the giver, such as when Lily and James Potter had given their lives to save their son. He went on to explain that no one had ever been sure why the protection increased if sacrifice was involved, numerous theories of sentient magic or the strength of human souls had of course been thrown around but nothing had explained it. However, one thing was certain and that was that sacrifice for protection worked beautifully.

Flamel had said that in the very few circumstances he'd seen this type of sacrifice it usually involved death or great pain for the protector but when they did die the protection seemed to continue with family. He recalled once when a woman had sworn to protect a baby child for the rest of her life. She raised the young boy well but she herself was killed when the young boy was 8. She had died protecting him from a group of thieves.

The boy had run for his life, eventually being found by the woman's sister. For the rest of his life, as long as he was in the company of her or any of her direct family, he found he couldn't be hurt. If someone intended to hurt him, they would always have an accident, or just would not be able to get anywhere near him.

Dumbledore had been fascinated by the story and after Lily and James had been killed, he decided to place Harry with his Aunt Petunia in the hope the old stories were real. True enough, Voldemort and his Death Eater's had not set foot onto Privet Drive. So far the Dementors were the only ones who made it anywhere near Harry with intent to hurt him. Until now…

It did make sense though, with the blood ward protection being aimed at Voldemort, it wouldn't stop anyone who intended to hurt Harry unless they had been bonded to Riddle somehow. Which made sense; the Death Eater's could not break through, because the mark was a form of dark soul magic, allowing Riddle total control over his subjects. This was why Dumbledore had trusted the blood wards to keep Harry from getting in serious danger, added to the fact that only a few select people knew where he lived.

Of course, Harry's address was kept down in Wizarding files but these were written magically and stored in a file protected by lots of security at the ministry. The order members were the only other ones who knew, other than of course, anyone Harry had told personally. This meant that Voldemort either had a spy in ministry or order ranks, or Harry's address had been found out at school by a child who informed a Death Eater. None of the options were good ones at all.

Dumbledore cleared his head, noticing nearby police and ambulance officers staring at him strangely, no doubt due to his strange appearance. As he cast one last look at the area, the full weight of what had just prevailed here hit him. Harry was gone. In the hands of the most powerful dark lord in a century, who also had a small group of powerful, insane followers with him. The group of Death Eaters who had been captured at the ministry had once again escaped, this time a lot quicker and a few of the Dementors had disappeared as well, and now with Harry gone…

With a heavy feeling in his chest Dumbledore turned and walked back to Arabella Figg's house, sounding the call for an immediate order meeting as he walked.

"Master," the hooded voice rushed forward, crouching down in the brightly lit hallway. "We've captured the Potter boy; he awaits your wand in the dungeons now." The feminine voice was full of glee and barely controlled excitement.

"Get up Bella, you have done well." The voice of Lord Voldemort was as cold as ever, though it held a hidden tone of joy and triumph. Bellatrix stood and whipped off her mask, staring at her master's red eyes, clearly anticipating what was to happen next.

"Yes my lord, are we to go to him now? Will you kill him today, it will null the prophecy will it not?" She said quickly, wanting to get to the dungeons as soon as possible.

Voldemort stood there, looking Bellatrix dead in the eye, obviously contemplating. "No Bella, he will not be killed today, after much discussion with Lucius and Rookwood I have decided to keep him alive, at least for now." Bellatrix's jaw had dropped open at this and she looked thunderstruck at her lord's decision.

Voldemort looked at her face and smiled before glancing over her shoulder to the door across the room, a split second before there was a heavy knock. "Enter Lucius, Augustus." The heavy wooden doors swung open to reveal two tall figures, both regal looking and standing proud. They strode forward, standing next to Bellatrix, bowing quickly to Voldemort.

"My lord," Lucius began, brushing his long silver hair out of his face with his hand. "Am I to assume that we will be going ahead with the tests rather than killing the boy? I have prepared the necessary tools for the first examinations and Severus is bringing down the potions as we speak."

Voldemort smiled at this, his red pupils slashing in happiness. "That is excellent Lucius; we will begin conducting tests very soon. Augustus, what are the reports from our recruiters?" Rookwood raised his head, his thin face completely serious and a scar running from his temple to his cheekbone still obvious against his pale skin.

"There is some good and bad news my lord," he began in a quiet voice. "Macnair has told me he his doing better and better at convincing some of the larger giant clans to our side, Dumbledore and his order have done little in that area. Along with the Dementors that joined after you released those of us who were foolishly captured, we have word that more and more are becoming interested in our cause. I should assume hat it will not be too long until we have the Azkaban hive under our control as well as some of those still scattered in isolation throughout Britain. Fenrir has also sent back word from the mountains, he is having good luck with a lot of the werewolves, and many are interested in returning to Britain to liberate their kind. However a few packs have apparently met up with another envoy, no doubt Dumbledore's and have since disappeared. We assume they either went into hiding or have joined the enemy."

He paused for a second, fidgeting slightly and obviously uncomfortable. "There is some bad news though, my lord," his eyes were cautious as he looked into his master's slightly narrowed red ones. "We have not been incredibly successful in gaining very many wizard supporters, word is that they are fearful of the Ministry's wrath now that Scrimgeour is in charge. However many of the older families are once again in contact with us and negotiations are taking place, shall I inform Dolohov and the others you wish to talk to them?"

Voldemort thought for a minute before nodding sharply. "Yes, tell Antonin and his recruiters that I shall be paying them a visit, I must plan some meetings with certain people. Lucius, did you speak to Gordair about his and Severus' potions crew, how are the detonation brews coming along?"

"They have about 40 cauldrons full my lord, about 10 more than expected at this time. By the time of the planned attack we should be about 30 above expected, however they estimate they will have your requested quota by next Thursday. Will we be re-scheduling the attack, or shall I tell them to continue preparing more for the next few weeks?" The lord Malfoy knew the answer to that of course, a quick and brutal attack was necessary and right now they had just the right number of forces for this one.

Voldemort clasped his hands together and he smiled in approval before nodding slowly. The attack will take place next Friday then; have the controlled prisoners fed strengthening and nutrition potions from now on in. I want the ten designated trolls to be fully equipped for a heavy strike and four teams of 10 to be prepared." He turned to Bellatrix who was looking very disgruntled and left out. "Bellatrix you will be leading a team, who's main focus will be causing chaos and mayhem, do you understand?" Bellatrix grinned and nodded, already anticipating the upcoming battle.

"Lucius; Gosford, Dolohov and you will be captaining the remaining teams. Dolohov's primary task will be capturing citizens whereas Gosford and you will focus on Gringotts and any Ministry and Auror defences you encounter. Remember, this is a quick, heavy attack and you are to pull out as soon as there are too many aurors. We want them to know we are here and that is all, so hit heavy and fast and pull out just as quickly, do you understand?"

Lucius and Bellatrix nodded sharply, knowing what their lord wanted and exactly how to do it. "Bellatrix, go and prepare the teams with Gosford as a consultant." Bellatrix bowed and quickly walked out of the room through a small side door.

Voldemort turned back to Rookwood and Lucius, who were looking back at him in silent anticipation. "Now Augustus, you say we should extract some blood to run the first set of tests immediately?" Rookwood nodded once quickly, pulling several pieces of parchment from his robes.

"Yes my lord, we have several tests we thought we should run, testing magic levels and purity as well as our research group who would like to conduct some of the darker blood studies. His wand we have already acquired and it is in stasis awaiting your first examination, we have several wand experts and makers standing by with some veritaserum that we will be talking to." He was handing Voldemort the pieces of parchment which showed the experiments and names of those involved.

"We will also be doing the intended observation of magical and physical stress, though that will no doubt be occurring over the next several weeks. In short my lord, I suggest we gather the boy's blood, hair, skin samples, urine and saliva as a basis for bodily tests. I have a pensieve in the room ready for you as well as several other mind devices, a few you requested and other I have discovered and thought may be of use. Is this all alright by you my lord?" he finished, bowing once more at Voldemort who was flicking through the notes.

"Yes, Augustus, this is excellent, we shall begin immediately. Lucius, on the way I want you to collect Severus and bring with him the vials we need for storage. Now, let's go, I want to know everything I can about this damn boy and the secrets of his magic."

With that, the three black robed figures swept out the large oak doors to the dungeons, where Harry Potter lay naked and chained to a steel table, several white robed workers bustling around him.

"What are you going to do then Albus?" the gruff voice and clunking second step of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was unmistakable as he limped down the corridor. "With Potter captured, you've lost the prophecy child to the hands of the one he has to kill I might add. Is the order supposed to fight on its own?" He moved quickly for a man his age and with one fake leg.

Dumbledore walked swiftly through the cold, stone hallways of Hogwarts, heading towards the Great Hall. They had been forced to vacate number 12 for fear that it may fall into Bellatrix Lestrange's possession as she was the next in line for inheritance, unless Sirius had somehow manage to leave the house to Harry. Until they knew for sure though, and for that they needed Harry, the Order met in Hogwarts as it was entirely empty save for certain Order members.

"I'm not too sure Alastor; though I think at the moment we will have to continue as we are now, save for you and a few others who will work with me in figuring out how to free Harry."

"Do you really think you'll manage to do that? The entire DMLE has been searching for Voldemort's hideout since it was confirmed he was out and we couldn't find him during the last war, do you seriously think you are going to find the Potter boy?" Moody's tone was rightfully sceptical; he knew what the chances of actually locating him were.

Dumbledore let out a long sigh and stopped walking, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No Alastor, I don't think we'll find him at all. We have to try though, it's my fault Harry has been taking captive and I won't feel happy again until I know I've set him free. I failed him Alastor, and for that I am going to do everything in my power to set him free, even if it means taking the killing curse for him."

The two old friends looked at each other, both with a strong, daunting decision that it could well come to that. Moody eventually gave a quick sharp nod before turning and hobbling off again to the door huge doors at the end of the corridor. Dumbledore hesitated for a second, before briskly following the haggard ex-auror and throwing open the gigantic oak door and being exposed to the gentle rumbling of conversation.

Inside, seated at one long table were about 30 witches or wizards all talking, a few laughing and some hunched over pieces of parchment, pointing and muttering quietly amongst each other. Most of the Order members glanced up at Dumbledore waving and greeting their leader, still oblivious to what had happened that day. Only a few could guess that something was seriously wrong and they were all staring at Dumbledore intently. Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley and his father were all staring at the two newcomers, the pieces of parchment before them apparently forgotten.

Dumbledore strode past the table nodding at a few members here and there and shaking his head slightly as Lupin opened his mouth to talk, giving him a sharp look. He reached the head of the table and Moody sat down next to him taking a quick sip from his flask and his electric blue eye whizzing around.

The room slowly quietened as everyone sensed the sobriety and seriousness that was coming off the old wizard as he stood at the end of the table. Dumbledore coughed slightly and the last of the noise died out and everyone stared intently at him, the last few smiles fading away into slightly fearful and serious expressions.

"I'm afraid I have some terrible news," Dumbledore began in a loud voice, his breath hitching only slightly. Faces down the table blanched, expecting news of a large Death Eater attack. Dumbledore took a deep breath and lowered his head before he continued in a resigned voice. "Harry has been taken captive."

There was a few seconds of total silence until a pale and shaking Remus Lupin let out a strangled 'N-No…" and the table exploded into noise. Molly Weasley quickly had tears running down her face and Bill Weasley was shouting out, asking what had happened. Shacklebolt was trying to get everybody to quieten down while Fred, George and Remus simple sat there, horrified expressions on their faces. After about 10 seconds of chaos, Moody stood up and raised his wand letting out several loud bangs, quickly getting everyone's attention again.

"Thank you Alastor." said Dumbledore, finally taking his seat and looking down the table. "As I was saying, Harry was taken captive today by a group of Death Eaters who had attacked Privet Drive." The table quickly exploded once again into questions, everyone shouting over the top of each other in order to be heard until Moody released another set of explosions. "Thank you again. Now, ask your questions one at a time please, we will get through this. Kingsley?"

"How did the Death Eaters manage to get past the blood wards? You said that if both Harry and the Dursleys lived there they would protect him from Voldemort and his supporters." said the deep rumbling voice of the tall black Auror, who ignored the scattered flinches among the table.

"That is true," said Dumbledore. "However, the Dursleys passed away today at about noon in a car crash."

"Oh Merlin, that's horrible." Molly Weasley gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"No mum," snapped George. "We told you before those muggles are bastards to him. They put bars on his window during second year, do you remember that?" Fred nodded next to him.

"Of course I remember, but it's still a horrible thing to happen, and you watch your mouth around here! Just becau-"

Dumbledore let out a little cough, getting attention back to him. "Yes, as I said the Dursleys have died leaving the blood wards inactive. I expect Voldemort knew this through his and Harry's connection."

"What about Mundungus?" said Fred suddenly, a look of worry flashing across his face. Everyone perked up and their faces took upon similar looks as they stared at Dumbledore who let out another long sigh.

"I'm afraid Mundungus was killed as well. He was hit by the killing curse as he investigated Number 4." At this everyone's faces grew even more sombre and Molly's face took on a slightly guilty look.

"Do we know where Harry has been taken?" asked Bill quietly.

"We assume he has been taken to Voldemort's headquarters." said Dumbledore noticing Remus stiffen suddenly a little down the table. "Unfortunately we obviously don't know where that is but we will be working on finding Harry as soon as possible." Silence was all that met this last statement. There wasn't a sound until…

"What are we going to do about it?" said Remus softly, flicking his head up to meet Dumbledore's eyes, his thin form still visibly shaking.

Dumbledore looked back for a few seconds before replying in a voice almost exactly the same as Remus'. "We are going to put as much effort as we can into finding Harry as he is now our number 1 priority."

There was nothing except for a few nodding of heads along the table after that. Suddenly, Molly gasped and her eyes filled with tears again. "Oh Merlin, the children!" she whispered before jumping out of her seat and running out of the Great Hall, off to tell her children the horrible news.

Everyone watched her for a second before turning back to each other, save Fred and George who looked at each other before getting up and following their mother sparing one last nod at the table.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before addressing everybody once more. "Well, we should get to work. I want as much information as we have as well as contacts and Ministry papers. Let's get started." There was a flurry of movement as everyone set about gathering what they could but Dumbledore had eyes only for two people, Remus Lupin who was still sitting down and staring at the table, shaking violently. Fleur Delacour, Bill's partner who had just been inducted into there order was sitting perfectly still, biting her bottom lip and her pale blue eyes looking straight into Dumbledore's.

8th August, Scottish Lowlands

Harry Potter's eyes fluttered open and he was met with a view of a bright white ceiling. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light before taking a quick look around the now familiar room. Varied sizes of cauldrons filled with strange potions bubbled away on the benches that filled the room and there were strange devices positioned around him that produced a shady image of some kind of measurement.

Harry's whole body ached, he felt as though there were red hot nails driven into all of his joints and his muscles ached as if he had been beaten repeatedly the stretched out on a rack. His head was thumping painfully and he could taste dried blood on his tongue. He struggled feebly as usual at the chains the held him bound to the cold steel medical table, but as always it was no use at all.

He had been captured by Voldemort about a week ago and Harry could feel his resolve slipping away quickly, every day he was placed under different curses, the Cruciatus curse being a favourite and having wands and hands jabbed here and there he lost part of his mind to the pain and despair. While conscious he would slip away into strange, empty thoughts before being snapped back to reality by the harsh pain of some new treatment.

He remembered how he had learned of Neville's parents going insane thanks to the Cruciatus curse and wondered how long it would take for him to snap. He could also feel a strange pulse every time he was hit by some spell, it wasn't painful; almost pleasant even and Harry held onto this strange, addicting flush every time as some attempt to escape from the pain. It felt like a thick rush of electricity and it gave him a strange sense of power and ecstasy.

He was pondering what it could be, trying to ignore the pain when he heard the white door behind him open and he suddenly tensed. Someone walking in always meant he would be hurting very much and very soon.

"Good morning Potter!" came a murmured voice that Harry now knew all too well and he cringed in fear of what was to come. Augustus Rookwood stood next to the table right at Harry's head, looking straight down into his eyes. "The Dark Lord wants more results on the affects of curses on you. Shall we begin then?" Straight away he stepped back and pointed his wand at Harry's head before murmuring, almost lovingly "Crucio."

Harry felt the familiar stabbing of a thousand red-hot needles digging into his body and he let out a primal scream of agony. All he could think was why did they keep doing it, why did that keep laying curse after curse on him? He screamed almost continuously, thrashing against the shackles for about a minute, the pain roaring through his body. Then something happened.

All of a sudden, Harry felt the paining stopping from a horrible stabbing pain to a dull throbbing ache and he felt extremely light-headed. He felt as if…he didn't exist anymore, he had no cares at all in the world. Nothing mattered.

Then he felt like laughing. It started out as a chuckle that threw Rookwood off for a second before he just pumped more power in the curse. The chuckling turned into a small laugh, getting louder and louder until Harry was positively roaring with laughter at it all, at everything. Rookwood suddenly knew what was going on and his mouth curled into a triumphant smile and his soft chuckling joined the deep, deafening laughter of the snapped Boy-Who-Lived. Rookwood had done it; he had finally twisting Harry Potter's mind to breaking point…he was gone.

At the same time there was laughter echoing through Voldemort's hideout in Scotland, screams were filling the air down south in London. There was absolute chaos in Diagon alley as 10 trolls and around 40 black-robed, white masked figures appeared right in front of Gringott's. The trolls leapt forward swinging huge clubs at shoppers who had frozen at the sudden sight, killing dozens within the first ten seconds.

Death Eaters began hurling vials and curses everywhere, the vials of potions causing explosions wherever they smashed, a new weapon of Voldemort's. Curses few everywhere, the sickly green of the Killing curse dropping anybody they hit while other curses blew apart buildings, sliced off limbs and incapacitated those trying to flee.

As spells and clubs slammed into the meanacing, white marble building of Gringotts, there was a shimmer in the air and a small army of Goblins teleported in front of the Death Eater's charging forward with heavy axes and war-hammers, their shining weapons and armour flickering with strange goblin magic. Some were struck down before they had taken a few steps though most of them slammed into the squadron of Death Eaters, hastily erected shields protecting the men from the goblin's weapons.

Padma and Parvati Patil were trapped behind Florean Fortescue's stand, wands gripped tightly in their hands and tears running down their face as they looked at their dead mother's body next to them. They looked at each other and nodded grabbing each other in a hard hug. "Good thing Harry helped us then yeah Padma?" Parvati choked out, sobbing into her sister's shoulder. She felt Parvati nod and they pulled away both crying.

With one last look at their mother, they jumped up from behind the stand and starting yelling curses. They took one or two Death Eaters by surprise and they were forced to duck a few dangerous looking spells but they kept going. Suddenly, Padma saw a flash of green light and a small gasp from Parvati. She turned to look just in time to see her twin sister drop to the ground with glassy eyes next to her mother.

As Padma opened her mouth to scream, there was another flash of light, this time a red one and all she knew was black.

The Death Eaters tore through Diagon Alley, destroying everything they could and the Trolls were swinging their clubs at every building they could reach, bringing rubble crashing down on anyone who could still run. There was a brutal skirmish right out front of Gringotts with Death Eaters parrying the goblin's blows with magical shields and delivering harsh blows with powerful spells. One Death Eater raised his wand and screamed "VLIDUS RUINA" and a thick, silver beam of light exploded from his wand and slammed into Gringotts, blowing a gigantic hole in it's side and set off a low rumble throughout the foundations. The Death Eater lowered his wand with a grin visible below his mask which suddenly contorted into a gasp of surprised pain, before he fell to the ground with an axe lodged firmly in his back, a scarred, leathery goblin standing behind him with a look of furious loathing.

The air was suddenly filled with loud cracks as squads of Aurors appeared in the middle of the street and began countering the attack. There was a loud "RETREAT!" and the Death Eater's vanished in a black haze. The trolls, usually very stupid, all touched a rope hanging off their armour and grunted, before being whisked away by portkey.

Voldemort's forces disappeared almost as soon as the Aurors appeared and they left Diagon Alley in ruins.


	4. Chapter 4

The rubble crushed and clinked under Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt's dragon-hide boots as he walked through the destruction that was now Diagon Alley

The rubble crushed and slipped under Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt's dragon-hide boots as he walked through the destruction that was now Diagon Alley. Voldemort's forces had struck quickly and brutally, causing massive damage and casualties within the four minutes it took for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be informed and to deploy squads of Aurors.

The tall, powerful Auror stood still on top of a pile of rubble that looked like the remains of Magical Menagerie and stared in shocked horror and what lay before him. Half of the Gringotts building had been torn down, most of the front side was simply missing and inside you could see goblins and wizards bustling about, some tending to the wounded who had been unable to be moved to St Mungos.

How a squad of around fifty Death Eaters had manage to blow apart one of the most warded places in Britain and still go about with the rest of the street was astonishing. But somehow they had managed it. Kingsley had spoken with several witnesses who had managed to escape without injury. Seven was about all there was.

All of them basically had the same story; about forty or fifty Death Eaters had portkeyed right in front of Gringotts along with _ten _trolls. From there, they had proceeded to attack and destroy absolutely everything they could, the trolls utterly obliterating the buildings while the Death Eaters focused largely on civilians. The witnesses reported seeing the ominous green of the killing curse, coupled with other vicious looking 'dark' spells. Kingsley had to fight back the urge to snarl or grimace when he heard the contempt in people's voices when they said 'dark'.

Oh yes, he knew that dark magic existed, of course it did. It was the way these people spoke of it, these people who had no idea what 'dark magic' actually was, it disgusted him. As an Auror, he had often been forced to cast the Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, the Bone-Breaker, the Slashing Curse and all sorts of others. When his life was threatened he was forced to defend himself and others so he reacted accordingly. If that meant using dark magic then so be it, it was his job to protect the people and protect them he would, regardless of what they would think of him using 'horrible Death Eater curses'.

His thoughts were halted abruptly when there was a small clinking of moving rubble followed by a weak moan to his left. Leaping towards the piles of mortar and tile that replaced Eyelops Owl Emporium he could see a bloody and shaken hand pushing its way through a pile of crushed bricks. Ignoring his wand for fear of further damage, Kingsley dropped to his knees next to the emerging arm and began hurling away handfuls of rubble, working desperately to pull out whoever was trapped under the rubble.

Moving back as he uncovered more and more of the body, Kingsley gasped as he finally saw the face of the entombed person, or rather, the white skeletal mask. Throwing himself backwards, Kingsley whipped out his wand and trained it on the emerging Death Eater, waiting until the criminal was in an easier position to capture.

Eventually the Death Eater managed to clear enough of the building remains to drag himself out of his small tomb and Kingsley quickly stunned and bound him. Still unable to see the person's face and not wanting to risk anything, he muttered "Mobilicorpus" and the Death Eater was quickly lifted into an eerie, puppet-like position about 2 feet of the ground, head lolling forward and arms hanging weakly at it's sides.

Holding his wand in front of him to control the body, Kingsley moved swiftly across the uneven ground to what was left of Gringotts where a hastily erected base was located. Nearly running through the large hole that was now the entrance, Kingsley called out loudly, "I've found a Death Eater! He's in bad condition and I've stunned him but he's breathing. Get the field-healers and Director Bones here now!"

There was a bustle of movement as people looked up in shock before two crimson-robed Aurors ran off down the corridor to fetch Madam Bones, and a man in the green and blue robes of a field-healer rushed to Kingsley's side. "Lay him down gently on the floor then, let's stop the bleeding around his head."

Kingsley cancelled the charm, letting the body drop heavily to the floor, earning a disapproving glance from the balding healer, to which Kingsley just shrugged unconcernedly. The healer pulled out his wand and several vials of potions, casting a rapid succession of diagnostic and healing charms, pulling a vial of a murky-red potion and removing the white mask to pour it down the Death Eater's throat.

As he whipped away the skeletal mask, the few that had gathered around to watch what was happening recoiled suddenly and a few let out a couple of strangled gasps. There, lying on the cold stone of a crumbled Gringotts lay the recently-made-ex Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. His usually, perfectly combed-over thin brown hair was messy and sticking off all over the place. He had black shadows under his eyes and his cheeks, once round and rosy, were now as white as the mask he wore and stuck tight to the bones.

There was a squeak of footsteps and Kingsley looked up to see Madam Bones arrive, pushing her way through the crowd, a tense and questioning look on her face giving way to one of shock as she saw the man before her. The field-healer seemed to regain his wits and leaned forward with the potion in his hand, preparing to administer it but he was wrenched back by the back of his robes by a nearby Auror.

"Get away from him!" the man spat, staring in absolute loathing at the stunned politician in front of him. He started forward, his hands clenching into fists before Kingsley stuck his arm out in front of him. The Auror halted immediately, and at Kingsley's stern but understanding glance, nodded sharply and stepped back.

Looking up at Madam Bones, Kingsley saw an uncharacteristic look of disgust and fury, her mouth twisting almost into a snarl and her eyes narrowed down to almost slits. She leaned forward and, ignoring the weak protests of the field-healer, she wrenched him up, dragging him over to one of the remaining bank tellers and slammed him against it, earning a weak groan from the stunned man.

She held out her hand and one of the Aurors moved forward immediately, passing her two potion vials, one full of clear liquid and the other with a dark orange potion. She stared at all the surrounding people, which was nearly everyone capable of proper movement and she spoke in a loud and clear voice, the rage she felt tainting her words slightly.

"Is everybody in this room prepared to give a full and detailed account, one that may require Veritaserum and/or penseive memories, about what is about to transpire here with an informal questioning of the captured Death Eater, Cornelius Oswald Fudge?"

Without hesitation, everybody in the room who could whipped out their wands and confirmed it, the tips of their wands flashing a light green as the recently written magical contract accepted the truthful agreement. Nodding sharply, Madam Bones grabbed Fudge's face, pulling his jaw open with no small amount of force and tipping the dark orange potion into his mouth.

Almost instantly, Fudge's head shot up and his body tensed, his eyes jerking open, slightly dazed and unfocused as the Waking Potion took effect. Noticing his bound limbs, he became more alert and his eyes grew wide and fearful as he saw the crowd gathered around him and Amelia Bones' face about 5 inches away from his, a mask of rage.

"Hello Cornelius," she said in a voice full of contempt and anger. Taking advantage of Fudge's fish impersonation, Amelia grabbed the vial of veritaserum and poured a few drops into his gaping mouth. The minister jerked back and began struggling, his body jolting violently as the anti-apparation charms Kingsley had worked into the bindings made sure he could not escape.

"Well then, shall we begin?" said Amelia, drawing out a long black quill and some parchment and placing it on a conjured stool. With a muttered charm, the Ministry quill used by interrogators jerked up, the tip poised and ready to write everything that was said.

"Are you Cornelius Oswald Fudge?" Amelia asked, looking at the prisoner coldly.

"Yes." said Fudge, a glazed look now in his eyes, the typical sign of mind-controlling magic.

"Did you take part in the attack on Diagon Alley?"

"Yes." At this, mutterings broke out across the hall and some people's hands twitched towards their wands in anger.

Amelia's eyes had narrowed more, almost joining in the middle as she glared down at Fudge. "Are you a Death Eater?" she all but growled out.

"Yes."

At this there was a cry of outrage from the crowd and many whipped their wands out, putting them away only after a glare from a few of the senior Aurors. Kingsley glanced around the crowd, making sure no one was going to make a violent move before he too stared down at Fudge in disgust.

Amelia took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her hands several times before finally regaining composure and continuing with the interrogation. "Are you aware of any of Voldemort's plans?"

Fudge's face twitched for a second, causing a few eyebrows to raise in interest at the movement, it was not normal behaviour while under Veritaserum. "Yes," he finally said still in a blank, emotionless voice. "He is gathering his forces and preparing plans of attack on both magical, and muggle communities. He is also conducting a number of tests on Harry Potter in an attempt to discover more about magic and become more powerful. He has informed us he has a strong reason for keeping Potter alive but weak."

The large crowd gathered around gasped and a drone of shocked and anxious voices echoed in the hall slightly. Amelia looked stunned; there had not been any word of Harry Potter's capture and imprisonment by Voldemort. As far as the ministry knew, he was still safely under his relatives care, waiting for September the 1st. She turned to look at Kingsley and noticed him looking at her without a hint of surprise. He clenched his jaw and nodded sharply at her, indicating that Dumbledore had indeed informed him.

Amelia's eyes narrowed and her face grew stony as she took in the information that Dumbledore was keeping such important secrets from the Ministry. She raised her hand and silence fell quickly among the crowd though they all still bore surprised expressions, some even fearful.

Turning back to Fudge she asked "Are you aware of the size of Voldemort's forces?" There was absolute silence as everybody in the hall leaned forward slightly, all dreading what the answer could be.

Fudge opened his mouth to answer though suddenly he stopped. He tried a few times to speak; small coughs and gags were all that he managed to get out.

"What is the size of Voldemort's army?" Amelia said a little more forcefully her eyes wide with confusion. Fudge was spluttering like a maniac and he began shaking, still trying to force out an answer. Amelia grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close.

"Answer me!" she cried out, unnerved by what was happening. Kingsley and a few others moved forward slightly, drawing out their wands from their robes though most simply looked on in stunned silence. This had never happened before.

Fudge was now shaking uncontrollably, jerking and twisting in Amelia's grip until she was forced to let him go and he fell to the ground, his body wracked with spasms. Suddenly he stopped with a jerk of his head and slumped to the ground perfectly still.

The field-healer who had scanned him earlier let out a little cry before diving forward with his wand and grabbing the still prisoner. Everyone watched on in absolute shock as the healer ran his wand up and down Fudge's body muttering spells before he stopped and turned to the crowd, his face a mask of disbelief.

"He's dead," he stammered out in surprise, gripping his wand tightly. "His brain had a complete shutdown under some pressure." He reached forward and rolled Fudges body onto its back and a few people let out startled gasps.

Fudge's muscles were all tensed, the veins in his arms and neck popping out slightly and his fists were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. There was a small trickle of blood seeping slowly out of his nostrils and ears, the dark red liquid creeping its way out of his head. His eyes were glazed over and there wasn't a sign of life in them. One eye looked straight ahead while the other had gone somewhat cross-eyed, the pupil barely visible, snapped in towards his bleeding nose.

Amelia raised a hand to her mouth in shock. "What…what in Merlin's name happened to him?" she gasped out, looking on in disbelief.

"It would appear that your ex-minister was under the effects of an Imperius Curse." Came a deep, slightly accented voice toward the back of the group. The crowd parted to give view to a tall figure standing and looking on in shocked interest. He was about 5'9" and seemed to have an athletically thin figure. Clad in long, expensive-looking royal blue robes, he took a few steps forward so he was closer to Fudge's body.

Kingsley stepped forward, his wand held loosely in his right hand as he stood in front of the unknown man. He looked at him, trying to take in as much of his features as he could. He had light brown hair which was thick and about 3 or 4 inches long, though it was neatly brushed and styled. He had dark green eyes which held a look of professional interest and had a friendly gleam to them.

He was tanned; his face a light brown, not one you would often see on an Englishman and the skin seemed to stretch slightly across his cheekbones. He had a small white scar, reaching just from his lower lip to his chin, contrasting slightly with his brown skin. All in all, he held a look of warm intelligence, and he was standing in a very-passive manor, his hands by his side and not twitching anywhere near the direction of where most wizards kept their wand.

"May I ask who you are?" said Kingsley, attempting to remain polite and non-threatening tone of voice while still retaining an aura of professionalism and authority.

"My name is Albert Delacour, I'm a professor from France, and my speciality is mind magics." The man said, extending his hand to shake, a polite smile on his face as he acknowledged Kingsley. The Auror looked at him for a second, before swapping wand hand and grasping Delacour in a firm handshake.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Leading Auror for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you say you know what happened here?" Kingsley gestured behind him towards Fudge's still form next to Amelia who was looking at Delacour with a mixture of apprehension and interest.

Delacour strode over to Fudges body and squatted down beside it, scrutinizing his face for a moment before he spoke. "Well I cannot be too sure though I do have a suspicion." He glanced up at Kingsley who nodded for him to continue.

"If I was to give my professional opinion, I would say that yes, he was under the effects of the Imperius curse." Delacour's lightly tinged French voice was loud and clear, penetrating the silence that had gripped the hall.

"What makes you say that?" said Kingsley, adopting the same position as Delacour and Fudge's other side, the now forgotten Field-Healer making his way back into the crowd, observing the conversation with intense interest.

"Well," said Delacour reaching out a hand towards Fudges face, pointing towards his right eye, the one that had snapped inwards. "This looks as though it was caused by some violent brain problem; something that snapped inside is head or a similar affect. It would also explain the blood leaking from his nose and ears, a disrupted blood vessel in the brain or something. Muggle science is quite good at this."

He stared at the body for a few more seconds before standing up, Kingsley copying his movement and looking at Delacour intently. Delacour met Kingsley's gaze and drew himself up a little taller before continuing.

"I believe that the controlling power of the Imperius curse reacted with the similar affect of the Veritaserum potion, which resulted in severe brain damage. The two, strong combating magics exploded against each other and halted all brain functions." Kingsley glanced down at the body and nodded, running the theory through his mind.

"But then why was he able to answer my earlier questions?" asked Amelia, standing up and speaking for the first time since Delacour arrived. She stuck out her hand for the Frenchman to shake and he grasped it smiling warmly at her. "I'm Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE."

"Yes, I know who you are and it's a pleasure to meet you." said Delacour politely, before turning back to Fudge's body, his face becoming serious straight away. "The answer to your question is not a very comforting one. It could be that the Imperius magic was weak, and only managed to fight against the Veritaserum at a very important question.

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head slightly before turning to face Amelia. "The more likely explanation though, is that whoever cast the charm had total control throughout the entire interrogation and knew exactly what was happening. I'm assuming this means that The Dark Lord wanted you to know all that. If he's willing to give you information as important as that, he must be doing very well in his plans."

Amelia stared at Delacour, a deeply troubled expression across her face. Delacour waited patiently for her response, and everybody else in the hall was either looking at Delacour in stunned disbelief or at Amelia, waiting for her response.

Finally Amelia nodded and gestured at Kingsley, who floated up Fudge's body. "Would you be so kind as to accompany us to the Ministry? I am sure you would be very helpful to figuring out what has happened here."

"Of course Ms Bones," said Delacour bowing his head in agreement. "I was intending to visit the Ministry at some point today on personal business so I'm more than happy to."

Amelia smiled. "Thank you Mr Delacour." She turned to Kingsley and nodded, who held a small metal rod out so it was touching Fudge's hand and portkeying away, the newly-erected wards only allowing portkeys of restricted access through.

Pulling out her own restricted portkey, Amelia held it out to the Frenchman who placed a finger on it, steadying himself for the ride. Amelia activated it, and the two were whisked away, leaving behind a huge crowd to explode into noise over what had just taken place.

Harry Potter was in impossibly deep trouble. He had run this desperate situation through his mind time and time again, and yet he had still failed to come to any sort of conclusion. Glancing at the stone wall where his problem was permanently etched, he growled in frustration, running a hand through his long, tangled black hair.

He had been thrown into the cool, stone cell not even two days ago, and had fallen into immediate boredom. After what seemed to be about an hour, judging by the amount of time strokes on one of his walls, Harry had decided that counting the seconds via scratching lines into stone was not nearly entertaining enough. Both his wrists had started to cramp up, and he was simply running out of room on the wall, and he wanted to save the other two for a later day.

So, Harry had proceeded to find something else to entertain him, he spoke to the guard down the hall for a little while about the Cannons' chance at the league this year, but the man only responded with a grunt every now and then. Eventually Harry had given up on trying to get the man to talk with a pout, and had started work on his new masterpiece, which he was currently trying to figure out. Unfortunately though, Harry was having quite a hard time and it was beginning to piss him off.

He kicked at the ground, stubbing his dirty toe causing him to grunt a little in pain and anger. Turning away from the bane of his existence, the unsolvable riddle he looked around the bare room in mild dislike. There was a single cot in the corner, with hard white sheets and a scratchy woollen blanket that reminded Harry of the jumpers Mrs Weasley would send him every year. Harry laughed a little, did she honestly think he would wear it more than once, and only wear it once to please the other members of the family? Harry had loads of clothes; he had gotten presents from people like Lavender and Parvati for years, people who wanted someone of his status and looks to have a decent wardrobe. He never told Ron of course, or Hermione simply because he knew the reaction he would get from the two.

Stuffing his hands into his non-existent pockets, Harry turned to stare at the bars that held him in, the door to his cell. They looked like ordinary muggle prison bars, left over from the buildings older days (Harry assumed he was being kept in a castle's dungeon). Voldemort wasn't that stupid though, he had placed numerous wards and spells on the bars designed to keep people out and Harry in. the only time these were ever removed was when Harry's meals were brought down, and even then they could only be removed by someone who bore the dark mark.

Harry cocked his head a little, at the thought. He was quite sure it would be dinnertime soon and the idea of that appealed to him greatly. Despite being a prisoner, Harry was now being quite well-fed, the 'tests' Voldemort conducting were now over it seemed, Rookwood's Cruciatus treatment was the last thing he had been through. Harry clapped his hands together and licked his lips, he had only had a few meals in here so far but they were quite delicious, some nice potatoes and meat for dinner last night. Harry had to remember to ask his next waiter to give his compliments to the chef.

As he mulled over what sort of meal he was likely to receive for dinner today, the answer finally popped to his head. He had found it, the perfect word. Turning back to the wall, he jumped forward with the small piece of rock in his hand. Scratching three small letters into the stone, he leant back on his haunches and nodded, immensely pleased with what he had done. On the blank wall now read a simple sentence, _'Voldemort is a fucking git'. _Standing up and dusting off his hands and looking at the wall in approval, feeling incredibly proud at his linguistic mastery, Harry heard the loud clanking sound that announced the arrival of his dinner. A large grin forming across his face, Harry leaped towards his bars, careful not to touch them and he stood there patiently, eagerly awaiting his 5 course meal.

He heard soft footsteps coming down the hall and the grunt of the guard as the waiter passed him, Harry straightened a little, expecting perhaps Bellatrix or Narcissa to come strolling down the hall, a heavily laden dinner tray in their hands. He was surprised then, when the sleek, _'Man-juiced'_ thought Harry, head of Draco Malfoy came into view.

"Hello, Potter." He said, looking at Harry through the bars, the tray held loosely in his hands. Harry glanced down hungrily at the chicken and vegetables before looking at Malfoy, his insides clenching in anger at the sight of him. He couldn't help thinking just how fucking annoying Malfoy's smirk looked and he straightened himself up.

"Malfoy," he said in a calm voice. "How good to see you, now will you please give me my chicken and scurry off to fuck a ferret?"

Malfoy's face clenched in anger and he whipped out his wand, dispelling the wards around the cell. "You'll watch your mouth Potter. The Dark Lord sent me down here to have some fun, right before he kills you and Dumbledore." He stuck his wand through the bars pointing it at Harry's face.

"So I'm going to do just that, ready for some pain Scarhead?" Malfoy was fucking smirking again was all Harry could think about, his eyes flicking back to his food.

"Malfoy," breathed Harry. "Give me my chicken please. The Dark Lord gave you the food to deliver to me, now may I please have it?"

Malfoy sneered at Harry before he flipped his hand sending the plate of steaming chicken clattering to the floor. Harry froze, staring at his upended meal. Slowly he began to fully realise what had just happened, and he began to shake with anger. Raising his head to look at Malfoy, he saw that smartarse smirk on his face again, his wand still pointing at Harry. As Malfoy opened his mouth to let out a curse, Harry's arm snapped up, grabbing Malfoy's wrist and tugging, smashing the blonde-haired boys face into the bars.

With a quick push, he snapped Malfoy's arm against the metal pole, snapping the bone in two and sending his wand clattering to the side of the cell. Reaching through the bars and grabbing Malfoy by his robes he pulled him into his cage hard.

"You…you fucking bastard!" Harry growled, pushing him forward and then slamming him back in again. He smashed Malfoy's head into the bar again and again, beating his face to a pulp until the guard down the hall made it to his cell. Tearing Malfoy away from him and throwing him to the floor, he re-erected the wards.

Harry stepped back breathing heavily and looking at the bloodied, sobbing face of Malfoy in pure rage. His eyes flicked up to his guard who had his wand pointing at him and an eyebrow quirked.

Harry pointed at his ruined dinner and said calmly, "Can I please have another meal?"

The guard looked at him strangely, before nodding slowly and grabbing Malfoy, marching off with him down the hall. Harry sighed and stepped backwards, leaning back against the wall and slumping to the ground. He rubbed his stomach and looked around the room before noticing the forgotten wand of Draco Malfoy. He leant forward and picked it up, staring at it in triumph and joy. Tightening his hand around the wand, he snapped it cleanly in two, before tossing the broken wood away to the other side of his cell.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm cold

"I'm cold." Harry Potter's hoarse voice echoed across the dull, stone hallway and reached the lone guard's ears. He tensed a little in irritation at the voice before pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders and leaning back against the wall, muttering under his breath in annoyance. It was his third shift watching the Potter boy, and every time he had been stationed here, he had almost been driven to insanity from listening to Potter's endless, pointless ramblings.

"Does it usually get this cold down here?" asked Potter. "I imagine it would I guess, the whole dungeon thing, stone walls and all that. No insulation at all. I remember the Dursleys had insulation in their house; Dudley made me eat some of the foam stuff on my 8th birthday. I wonder what they're doing now."

The guard gritted his teeth and his hand curled instinctively around his wand. "My name is Vincent Dryer; I am a wizard who lives in England." He breathed, trying to bring his mind back to a sensible plane of reality, rather than dwell on the benefits of 'insulation'.

"Whoa, shit!" he heard Potter say in surprise. "When the hell did you get here Vincent? You could have warned us, you scared the skewts out of me."

Dryer let out a loud groan and slid down the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why did he have to guard the nutcase? Blasted Rookwood went way too far with the pain threshold test. Now _he_ had to look after a talkative, teenaged wizard who was absolutely and undoubtedly off his rocker. He needed something to happen, and he needed it to happen quickly.

Harry Potter however, was having an excellent time, despite the rather uncomfortable temperature. He was sprawled out, flat on his back on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. He lifted his head up for a minute, leaning towards the outside his cell as if listening for something. "I think Vincent might have left," he said thoughtfully, laying back down and turning his head to look to his left. "He never does talk for very long doesn't he?" He went silent for a minute before letting out a short laugh. "Yeah I agree," he grinned turning back to the ceiling. "Them blasted Nargles must've nicked his tongue."

He shifted around a bit, trying to get into a more comfortable position. "The floor is quite cold though," he frowned, propping himself up on his elbow. "Must be because it's a dungeon. I'd imagine they would have no insulation at all. It must've been really unpleasant for the prisoners that were kept here." And with that and a satisfied smile on his face, he dropped back down on the floor and resumed his earlier position.

He sat there peacefully for a few minutes, content to watch the cracks lengthen slowly on the ceiling. He had estimated a three millimetre growth since his first day. "That's not a bad effort for a crack in the roof wouldn't you say?" he asked nobody in particular. Nobody in particular must have replied because Harry was soon smiling his content smile in silent agreement.

He must've dozed off at some point because he was quickly being awoken by a loud bang followed by sounds of struggles and grunting. Harry narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance, wondering what on earth was going on. Sure, it was around dinner time but usually it was brought in quietly and calmly, certainly not with fighting and grunts of pain.

His thoughts flicked back to his last meal delivery and a small, happy smile spread across his face as he remembered Malfoy's shattered nose and beaten face. His eyes flicked to the corner of his cell where the snapped wand still lay, splintered and spiky with a small, red piece of what must be heart-string poking out. Harry crawled over and grabbed it as the sound of voices and struggling got louder, sticking it in the waistband of his rags just has someone was pushed in front of his cell.

Harry looked on at the newcomer in interest, attempting to recognise whoever it was. "One of your breasts is sticking out of your robes so I'm going to assume you're a girl?" said Harry in a conversational tone. The girl whipped her head towards him and Harry tried to get a look at her face but it was shrouded in long black hair. The girl must've known him though because a second after she saw him, she stumbled back as if she had been hit before being grasped roughly by the shoulders by Vincent.

"Here you go Potter," said Vincent in a gruff voice, sounding quite annoyed. "Have someone _real _to yap to." With that he quickly took down the enchantments on Harry's cell and pushed the girl in, slamming the door shut again and re-erecting the enchantments in the space of about five seconds.

Harry watched calmly as his new female cellmate fell to the hard floor and let out a soft cry of pain and surprise. As she pulled herself up, Harry looked closely at her, attempting to figure out who on earth she was. She had a smooth, dark brown skin tone that suggested someone of ethnic heritage, coupled with the lengthy and sleek black hair. Harry felt a twinge of recognition as he watched the girl move, she seemed incredible familiar. Then, she pushed her hair away from her face and Harry finally saw who had been forced into captivity with him.

"Parvati?" he said, stunned.

To his surprise, at the mention of the name she burst into tears, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on her arms. Harry stared in shock at her flinching away slightly, afraid to touch a female while she was crying. There was no way he was going to get involved in a situation like that again.

As he looked on as Parvati sobbed her eyes out, an idea struck Harry. His face shifted into a shard, rigid expression, his emerald eyes narrowing in thought. Shuffling forward slightly, he stretched out and grasped her hands, pulling them slowly away from her face.

She lifted her head up to stare at him with watery eyes, her bottom lip was trembling slightly and her cheeks were damp with glistening trails of salty tears. Harry reached out and brushed the hair away from her face almost lovingly, caressing her cheek with his finger as he did, drawing out a soft sob.

Studying her face with a soft expression, he held her chin and whispered softly, "Padma?"

She gave a tiny nod, her eyes filling up with tears again before she lunged forward, grabbing Harry by his rags and shoving her face into his chest. Harry however, cried out in fear and hurled himself backwards, leaving Padma to fall to the ground letting out a choked cry of surprise.

Harry managed to sit back on his haunches and he watched Padma with an expression of mingled distaste and amusement as she pushed herself up weakly, her arms shaking from shock and fatigue.

"Harry," she said resting on her knees and staring up at him with wet, confused eyes. "What's the matter with you?" Her voice was croaky and came out slightly strangled. She was holding back a fresh wave of tears after Harry had pushed her off of him.

"Well come on Padma," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "I've been in here a few days and spent Merlin knows how much time getting tortured before that. Basically Padma, we've decided that in this cell there is but one rule." Padma glanced around in confusion at Harry's use of the word 'we', but he seemed to carry on as if it was completely normal to be referencing to yourself in plural form.

"It's a simple rule you see Padma, and one everybody should follow." Leaning in closer until Padma could feel his hot breath on her nose his face became cold and rigid. "Harden. The fuck. Up."

Leaning backwards and completely ignoring Padma's bewildered face Harry pulled out the remains of Draco's wand, fingering it thoughtfully.

"Now you see Padma, your arrival is one of particular interest to us, as you provide us with a possible escape route, though we will require a bit of help on your part." He was staring right at Padma now, his face serious and calculating

Padma met Harry's gaze with her own look of uncertainty and she nodded jerkily "I'll do whatever it takes to get out of this place." She said determinedly.

Harry's face cracked out into a huge grin and he leapt to his feet tucking the wand remains back into his trouser waistband. "Brilliant!" he cried taking a step to stop right in front of Padma. "Trust me; you'll want to be prepared. There's no easy way to say this Padma but uhh, I'm going to have to rape you."

Her jaw dropped open and she stared up at him absolutely stunned. Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and winked at her. "Well, I never said it'd be either easy or comfortable now did I?"

"Wait, you're not actually serious about this are you?" said Padma, stumbling over her words and inching backwards away from Harry towards the cell wall.

Harry cocked his head and looked at her strangely. "Well, yeah of course I'm serious. I mean, don't get me wrong I don't exactly want to go through with this either, I mean let's face it you kind of smell right now. But a man's got to do what a man's got to do so take off what's left of your shirt and let's get to it shall we?"

'_Remember she has to scream for it to seem legit.' _

Harry jumped backwards startled, his eyes sweeping the room and the hallway for the source of the voice. "What the fuck was that?" he said nervously.

Padma looked up at him as though he was completely insane. "You just said you were going to rape me?" she said, before shrinking in fear as she realised she had once again drawn attention to herself. She had never really been afraid of Harry before, not even when he got angry during the DA. But now he seemed so violent and erratic. Something was wrong with him; he was acting like an insane man.

Harry looked at her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Taking one more sweeping glance of the cell he shook his head and turned his attention back to Padma. "I must be hearing things. You know I think my time with Voldemort may have caused some stress or something. Anyway, shall we get on with it then? I don't know about you but I want to get out of here as soon as possible. So let's fake this damn rape and get ourselves to somewhere really cool!"

Padma stared up at him incredulously; absolutely shocked that he was serious about this whole 'rape' thing. "No Harry! We will not get on with it! I'm not getting raped and that's final!" she cried out, her voice frighteningly loud in the empty hallway.

Squatting down and hushing violently, Harry grabbed her by the shoulders. "Keep quiet you nutcase otherwise they'll hear our plans and foil them! Are you crazy?" He sighed and rubbed her shoulders softly before looking up to meet her eyes.

"Padma, listen to me. We are prisoner of war, trapped and caged like beasts. If you ever want to escape to see the goodness and virtue that remains in this world, to feel the sun on your face or the grass beneath your feet we have to do this. As a wise man once said, 'to make it to Heaven, one must commit the sins of Hell'."

Padma seemed to absorb all of Harry's words and she sat for a few seconds, rolling the plan over in her head before squeezing her eyes shut and giving a sharp nod. "Okay Harry," she said with a small sob escaping her lips. I trust you, I believe you. We have to get out of here and if faking my rape is the only way to do it then by Merlin Harry I'll make my sacrifice." Her eyes shot open and glistened with a furious determination.

Harry let out a long sigh and a whoop of relief. "Well thank the gods for that, I was scared for a second there. I honestly didn't think you would believe all that codswallop about the sun and grass. A wise man once said my arse." Harry shook his head chuckling.

"I mean, I really hoped you would take the bait because spurting out all that crap as a spur of the moment thing wasn't easy I tell you. I mean, by cripes-"

"Okay Harry I get it." Padma hissed through a clenched jaw. "You don't have to make me look like some kind of idiot alright? Let's just get this blasted thing over with."

Harry gave a small smile before leaning forward and grabbing Padma's shirt, pulling the straps down to reveal her bare chest.

"Harry! What the hell?" she cried, kicking him in the chest and wrapping her arms protectively around her breasts. Harry sat back up rubbing his elbows in pain from where he landed on the floor.

"Look Padma," he said running a hand across his face and sighing wearily. "If we want to get out of here, we have to convince Vincent that something is wrong so that he will come check it out and then lower the enchantments on the bars. Rape isn't like pretending to give a shit about what Ron thinks the Cannon's chances are this season alright? Rape is a serious business that needs to look incredibly convincing."

Reaching forward and forcing her arms away from her chest he gazed down at her breasts in pleasant surprise. Nodding happily he looked back at her face which was looking fearful. "Now remember what I said okay? Harden the fuck up!"

Padma glared at him scathingly but submitted and allowed Harry to pull her closer to him though she still kept a slight blush at allowing him to see her like this. Harry leaned in close to her ears and whispered softly. "Now start screaming and struggling. Make it sound real."

More than willing to do so, Padma started kicking and shoving against Harry trying to push him off of her. "Harry, no!" she yelled out. "Get off of me! No…please. Help me somebody! He's raping me!"

Vincent Dryer jerked when he heard the girl's screaming. Rubbing his eyes he grumbled in annoyance as he pulled himself to his feet. He had just been dozing off into what promised to be an excellent sleep when that blasted new bitch prisoner had started squealing.

He opened his mouth to yell at her to shut up when he heard what she was screaming about. Rape? _Oh shit, _thought Vincent as he realised what was happening. The Potter boy must have gone much more whacko than anyone had thought. Drawing his wand he headed down the hallway to Potter's cell, he couldn't have anyone getting hurt while he was on shift. The Dark Lord had said no one was to hurt either of them. "For Merlin's fucking sake." said Vincent as he reached the cell doors.

Harry smirked at Padma's efforts to fake an attempted rape. The smirk stretched into a smile as he heard hurried footsteps echoing down the hall and he forced Padma down onto the floor positioning himself on top of her, though his right hand inched slowly down to his waistband.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards even more as he heard the deep voice of Vincent muttering the counter-enchantments for the bars of the cell. It was almost time to get out, to escape this freeing cell with no fucking insulation.

_You know what you need to do Harry. This is it._

Harry nodded slowly, oblivious to the fact that the voice came from no one. The doors of the cell clanked open and he heard Padma give a believable cry of gracious surprise at a possible rescuer.

_Grab it and kill him, take him down now!_

Harry's hand wrapped around the snapped remains of Draco's wand as Vincent grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and heaved him off of Padma.

_KILL HIM!_

In a swift movement reminiscent of that fateful Halloween in the girl's toilet, Harry wrapped his arms around Vincent's thick shoulder's and jerked the wand shards upwards where it meant the Death Eater's face with a satisfying crunch.

He felt Vincent stiffen under his grasp and let out a low gurgle before leaning backwards and toppling over slowly and landing with a loud thump on top of both Harry and the dusty stone floor.

Shuffling out from under the heavy mass that was his guard, Harry pulled himself free and sat down with his breathing slightly hitched. He looked at the still form of Vincent and let out a low, throaty chuckle. As with the troll battle in first year, Harry had managed to stick the shattered wand up Vincent's left nostril.

Unfortunately for Vincent, the fact that he had a much smaller nose and that the wand had been snapped and was basically a spiky wooden rod, it had done a lot more than just alert him to Harry's presence.

Leaking out of the nostril which had the wand handle sticking out of it was a strange, dark red fluid that looked almost black. Blood was seeping slowly out of the corners of his eyes and mouth and his nose looked as though it had been shattered from the inside.

"Which it obviously has." said Harry to himself, still chuckling.

Padma was leaning against the wall staring at Harry in horror and shock. He had just brutally killed this man, a man with maybe a wife and kids and he was _laughing? _This wasn't the Harry Potter she had known, something had happened to him. Something horrible. She suddenly found herself wondering what he had gone through during his imprisonment.

"Harry," she started to say with a hint of a sob on her lips. Harry's head snapped to her immediately and he stared at her stony-faced without a trace of the sadistic enjoyment that had been there before. "Padma," he growled softly. "This man works for Voldemort; he is cruel and will kill you without hesitation. We're in a war and if you want to remember it you better keep in mind what I told you earlier."

Padma recoiled as if she had been slapped and turned to stare at Vincent with a familiar wetness in her eyes. She knew Harry had a point. His voice echoed in her ears, telling her to _'harden the fuck up'._ Deep down, she knew he was right but she couldn't help feeling a trace of pity for the body lying before her.

She clenched her fists and nodded, turning to face Harry once again with a questioning look that almost hid her feelings of confusion and horror. "What do we do now then?"

At the question, a smile broke out on Harry's face and he leapt to his feet and headed to the door. "Well, so far my plan is to go out and escape and if I get lucky I'll meet someone to kill along the way." With a smile and a two-finger salute he walked out the door.

"Harry wait!" cried Padma, struggling to her feet. Harry turned around to face her mid-stride. "Wait for me will you, and isn't it a little dangerous to just go running out there?"

Harry looked at her in confusion and scratched his head. "Wait a minute…you're coming too?" he asked totally perplexed at her behaviour.

Padma's jaw dropped open once again at his answer before she closed it with a snap "Yes I bloody well am." She said through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare leave me here you arsehole."

Harry let out a long sigh and stamped his foot like a six year-old asking for ice-cream. "Fine!" he said with a whinging tone in his voice. "But grab that bastard's wand, we may need to fight." With that, he turned around and strode out into the hallway.

Padma quickly dropped to the floor and found Vincent's wand which had thankfully fallen to the floor once Harry had stabbed him through his nostril. Glancing once more at the body and shuddering, she quickly ran out the cell to follow Harry.


End file.
